


Lavellan Can't Dance

by composewithcolour



Series: Nobody Expects The.... [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-30 04:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6408538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/composewithcolour/pseuds/composewithcolour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who likes to party? Apparently Orlesians do when murder, lies and incredibly tight corsets are involved. Ellana Lavellan and her Crew head to Halimshiral, but soon the realities of being an Elven Herald become all too clear and her growing tensions with the Iron Bull become harder to deny.  (Possible smut in future chapters)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Corsets

**Author's Note:**

> Hoping for this to be a multi-chapter fic to add to the series!

“Josie…I…” Ellana gasped, fingers protesting the solid grip she had on her desk, “…I can’t breathe!”

“If you can breathe, Inquisitor, you are not in Orlais.”

“We’re not in Orlais yet!”

It seemed that her protests were simply to be ignored. This was the fourth gown that Ellana had been forced to try on in the last hour, all of which had been horribly ostentatious, breast crushing, breath stealing devices which she could barely walk in. And that was without the shoes.

“Why do I need to wear a dress?”

“It will be expected of you. We could get us all matching outfits I suppose, increase our appeal as a unified force…” Josephine trailed off in thought.

The thought of trying to get the Iron Bull and Varric into the same style of clothing…or Sera and Dorian for that matter was enough to make her shudder, “maybe not.”

“There we go Inquisitor,” Josephine pulled away from the back of the silk corset, hands clasped together and a sparkle in her eye.

Bracing herself, Ellana lifted the mass of skirts and stood in front of the floor length mirror Leliana had hauled up early that day.

Her nose wrinkled at the sight of her reflection. She could barely see herself for all the layers of unnecessary fabric, her long hair pulled back and piled on top of her head out of the way. The silk itself was a pearlescent shade of light blue, changing colour in the light that filtered through the window. She could admit that the dress itself was beautiful… if from a fairy-tale perhaps, but on her it simply looked wrong…foreign with the Vallasiln on her face and shoulders. 

The door to her quarters opened and Leliana walked in, another dress in her arms, but stopped as she entered.

“You look beautiful inquisitor!” she exclaimed, dropping the other dress on the bed. Leliana appeared flushed, the apples of her cheeks defined as she smiled. Never had she appeared so happy then when they were talking about clothes.

Ellana looked back to her reflection and chewed the inside of her lip.

“No.”

Josephine frowned, “no?”

“I look like a child dressing up in her mother’s clothing.”

Suddenly Leliana and Josephine were at her shoulders staring at her through the mirror.

“You are not seeing the whole image, Inquisitor. I assure you, you look perfect,” Leliana gestured at the mirror as if the picture she was seeing before her would completely change by mere force of will.

“I look like a blancmange,” Ellana whimpered, pulling at the thick skirts.

“You look Orlesian,” Josephine corrected.

Ellana turned around to face the two women. Her breasts heaved with each struggled breath, the corset pushing them up in a way that nature never could.

“I’m not Orlesian! Surely the Inquisition is supposed to stand apart from individual countries and represent Thedas as a whole?”

Leliana and Josephine shared a look. An entire conversation passed silently between them as they considered Ellana’s words.

“We need something neutral,” Josephine said suddenly.

“Nude colours, or browns, or the colours of the Inquisition,” Leliana added.

“Ah,” Josephine lifted a finger, “but we’d have to be careful not to seem too forceful. She can hardly walk in as a standard for the Inquisition. She is the herald, not a mascot.”

Still talking to one another, Leliana and Josephine walked in synchronisation and left her quarters, leaving her completely forgotten behind them.

Ellana blinked, her hands going to her waist. They couldn’t just leave her tied up in the dress, imprisoned in silk! Facing the mirror once more, she twisted her arm behind her, trying to reach the ties of the corset. No matter how she stretched, she couldn’t quite reach.

A flutter of panic rose through her, her breathing becoming yet more laboured. Her face was going red with the strain.

 _Something sharp, something sharp._ She whirled around her room looking for a knife or anything sharp. The only thing she could find was a letter opener which was as blunt as Cassandra’s opinions.

Okay, now she was staring to freak out. She picked up handfuls of her skirts and ran over to her door. She peeked through the door, but the stairs were empty. Ellana whined in frustration. She hesitated on the top step before making a decision and carefully going down the stairs a single step at a time.

“Josephine?” she called, “Leliana?” she received no response.

She managed to squash her way through the door to the main hall, which for the first time was practically empty. She couldn’t be sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She didn’t want anyone to see her in this _thing!_

Then, she spotted the usual hulking mass making its way through the front doors.

“Bull!” she cried, darting towards him.

His mouth opened to say his usual ‘ _Hey Boss_ ’, but his face creased up at the sight of her and in an instant he was bent over double, roaring with laughter, it’s sound echoing around the hall. Every time he made eye contact with her again, his head would be thrown back as another fit overcame him. At one point he even wiped a tear away from his eye. Apparently the anger in Ellana’s eyes only amused him further.

“…What….,” he gasped for breath between the manliest giggles she’d ever heard, “what the hell… _is that_!”

Stone-faced, she replied, “A dress.”

He picked at her skirt with his thumb and forefinger, laughter still rumbling in the back of his throat.

She smacked his hand away, “just help me get out of it, will you? I can’t breathe!”

A wide grin crossed his face, but fell when he saw the desperation in her eyes, “turn around.”

Obediently she turned on her heel, desperate to feel her lungs fully expand once more. The Iron bull delicately grabbed the laces with his thick fingers, surprisingly dextrous for his size, “hold on,” he mumbled under his breath, “…just need to…uh,” his voice fell away to grunts as he tugged harder at the laces, causing her to stumble back into him.

“Problem?” she wheezed, looking back over her shoulder.

“No,” he said sharply, his eye screwed up in concentration, “just need you to brace against something.”

That made a blush rise quickly to her cheeks, but she turned to the nearest table and gripped its surface. The Iron Bull seemed to be taking it personally that the dress wouldn’t obey him. He was minutes away from simply tearing the dress away from her.

“For fuck’s sake,” he growled, placing a hand between her shoulder blades, the other pulling at the knot. Her arms shook beneath her as she tried to hold herself up, against the relentless force, the Iron Bull making more and more grunts of anger.

He pressed up against her, now simply gripping a lace with both hands, biceps bulging as if intending to tear it in two. A stream of curses fell from his mouth. 

“WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?”

Ellana and Bull jumped apart, shaking all over. Cassandra stormed over to them, her face scarlet in horror.

Admittedly that could have looked very wrong to a passer-by.

“My dress is –”

“She couldn’t breathe –”

Cassandra stared at them both, and then looked at Ellana’s dress, the corner of her mouth turning up in disgust.

“Turn around,” she said curtly.

Cassandra took the laces in hand and with a mere tug of a finger pulled it loose, and worked her way down the lacing. Ellana could have wept, as the front of the corset fell away from her, and she could take a shaking breath, filling her lungs once more.

“Oh Cassandra, oh thank you!” she cried in between breaths, throwing her arms around the seeker, who seemed less than impressed.

“What...how did you…” the Iron Bull stammered staring at Cassandra with awe.

The seeker pursed her lips, “I _hate_ Ball gowns,” she hissed with a relish only capable of one who was forced to endure them.

“No,” said a smooth voice from the entrance to the Rotunda. Vivienne’s eyes cast over the gown ignoring everyone else, “that simply will not do. Come with me.”

Without waiting for a response, Vivienne took Ellana’s arm and swept her away.

 

 

“You don’t mind stripping before me do you darling, I assure you I am far from interested,” Vivienne whipped around her space on the balcony like a force of nature, setting up a barricade of folding screens to protect them from onlookers.

With the other dress hanging limply around her, Ellana was hesitant to drop it in front of the other mage. Vivienne scared her like no other.

“It’s not like you haven’t dropped your clothes around others before, is it now?” Vivienne threw a knowing look in her direction. Ellana blushed fiercely, a beast growling in her stomach (or perhaps that was the lack of lunch?), “Do not misinterpret, that is merely a fact, not a judgement,” the woman’s tongue was sharp.

“Sure feels like it.”

Vivienne ignored the comment completely. The woman turned on her, a practiced eye looking her over like a dragon contemplating its meal, and deeming it unworthy. She pointed a manicured finger at the dress she was wearing, “off. _Now_.”

_Who was supposed to be the leader here?_

With the grace of an unruly child, Ellana let the dress drop around her, kicking it out from under her feet. 

Vivienne’s expression remained unchanged as she looked at Ellana’s curves or lack thereof.

“I would suggest you eat more, but having seen you stuff your face at every given opportunity, I feel like that shall do little to resolve the situation, even had we more than a week.”

Vivienne never seemed to notice how deep her words could cut. Within moments Ellana felt more self-conscious than she had done in her life. No matter how much the human’s liked to fetishize Elves, or paint them with obscenely large breasts and curves more befitting a human than anyone of her own species, they were quick to insult elves given the opportunity.

Ellana narrowed her eyes, her hands gripping on to her hips, standing in a casual, yet defiant stance meeting Vivienne’s gaze. Ellana was not the best of mages, but fuck anyone who said she couldn’t be a warrior in her own right.

“You obviously haven’t met a lot of Elves, but this is who we are. There is no point trying to shove me in a dress made for a human, when I’m not,” she lifted her chin, “I want to show my Vallasiln.”

Vivienne smiled. A small smile, but a smile none the less.

Ellana decided Vivienne smiling was decidedly scarier than her scowl.

“As you should,”

Ellana was taken aback, “what?”

“You are quite right. Lying to Orlais about the heritage of our Inquisitor will not fool them into believing you’re one of them. Making allies is quite the game and a forced one at that. You can make them like you all you wish, but nothing is a bigger motivator than fear. And with fear comes respect.”

“I…I don’t want them to fear me,” Ellana said.

Vivienne smirked, “No. But you can trust me when I say there are many kinds of fear. You see…” the woman walked behind her, “your advisors will make you look like a puppet. I will make you look like a Queen.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Iron Bull liked a party. Sadly the Qunari didn’t throw many but he had attended quite a few in his years with the Chargers. You kill some Wyvern in a cave somewhere and elsewhere some rich guy was popping the champagne. Then there were the parties in Orlais that had lasted days, the kinds with masks and little else…

Somehow he knew the Winter Palace wasn’t going to be having _that_ kind of party…not during the day time anyway. Royalty liked to get up to all sorts of things when people weren’t looking.

The Gardens were fancy as hell, all sparkling water flowing from fountains and neatly trimmed bushes (the only kind you’d find in Orlais). Stones crunched underfoot as he passed his weight from leg to leg watching the masses sweep around, pretending to take an interest in one another.

El – The Inquisitor had yet to make an official arrival, most likely being detained by her advisors for last minute briefing.

“Have you seen Lady Delacroix? There is a live hare just sat on her hairpiece,”

The Iron Bull sighed, “Dorian,” he greeted the man who had appeared at his side. Dorian seemed to be relishing in the event, hair carefully styled, silver eyeliner prominent and wearing a waistcoat with tails in a luxurious purple silk.

“I do commend her commitment to fashion, but surely the animal will just defecate everywhere? Or maybe the hare is to hide the real hair that wig is having such trouble hiding.”

“Maybe.”

Dorian raised a dark eyebrow, “oh come now, must you be such a bore? The evening has barely begun, plenty of time to be miserable later.”

The Iron Bull ignored him, watching the group of men gathered by a small fountain in the corner of the garden. The masks hid their faces but he could see by the quick movements of their mouths that a certain someone was the high point of discussion.

“You’d think the Orlesians would be more interested in the horned giant standing in the garden,” Dorian took a sip from his wine glass. He hadn’t even seen anyone handing out drinks yet.

“Or the Magister from Tevinter?”

“ _I’m not a Magister,”_

“It’s all about her. What she’s wearing, who she’s brought.”

“The Inquisition Envoys. We should start a band.”

Somewhere in the distance bells rang.

The Iron Bull breathed in. He felt oddly uncomfortable with the white collar of his shirt tight against his neck. The leather chest-piece he wore over the top was engraved with the symbol of the Inquisition. He might as well have been wearing flags from his horns.

He was large for a spy it was true, but he wasn’t used to being so brazen when asked to spy. He wouldn’t feel right until he saw her, knew what the threats were.

 

He was given a large berth as he made his way to the main ballroom. A group of women passed by him giggling loudly, fanning themselves, their eyes glancing up at him from behind their masks.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he flexed his arm, the muscles pulling the sleeve tight. The Orlesians might be wary of Qunari but they sure liked a good show. Maybe this party wouldn’t be so bad.

Vivienne was waiting at the railing overlooking the floor, looking in her element, cold, calculating eyes observing the room and sparkling in the lights. He stood next to her, bowing his head in what he hoped was a polite gesture. She scared the hell out of him, but man she was badass.

“And now, presenting: Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, and accompanying him, Lady Inquisitor Lavellan.”

For the first time in her life Ellana looked tall.

Instead of the overflowing dresses popular in Orlais, a smooth emerald silk fell from her frame like water accentuating the line of her breasts and the muscle that had grown in her thighs over the past few months. The material hung from a fine silver chain wrapped around the back of her neck, leaving the dress backless. From where the Iron Bull stood, the effect the miraculous. The entirety of the design of her Vallasiln was visible on her back, the length of her arms, curving around the backs of her calves and between her bare toes. Her hair, thick and unruly was natural and wild but pulled up and twisted in great knots; the masterpiece was of Vivienne’s design no doubt. Settled just on her hairline was a silver circlet shining in the lights of the chandeliers.

Ellana walked across the floor, not on Gaspard’s arm but by his side, her advisors following close behind.

The Iron Bull didn’t hear the announcements or the polite conversation between the Inquisitor and the Empress Celene.

“Stunning, isn’t she?” Vivienne said.

_Yes. Yes she was._

Holy fuck. You’d think watching a dragon fly overhead would be the scariest moment of your life. It turns out that walking through a room of pompous arseholes was a far more terrifying experience. She could hear the whispering on the side-lines, and whilst smiles were held on everyone’s faces, they were just as false as the masks they wore above them.

Empress Celene stood in front of her like a vision of royalty. She was larger than life (or perhaps that was the dress), and her smile oddly threatening, but perhaps that was to be expected. The Inquisition was growing rapidly and quickly adding followers to their ranks.

The quiet conversation between them was formal and terse. Sure she could simply announce that there might be assassins hanging from the rafters, but Leliana had advised her against acting like anything was abnormal. The Empress would always be aware that any second could be her last, particularly with her cousin at the ball.

As soon as the opportunity presented itself, Ellana made her escape from Gaspard.

It was a curious feeling having all eyes turned on her. A blush made its way from her cheeks to the very top of her ears. She was used to sly comments and disgusted looks. This, however, was something altogether different. Fellow guests bowed their heads as she walked by (sure to not appear discourteous to the Herald of Andraste), others tried to gain her attention, and the rest watched her not with derision, but with looks that were far from pure.

As she neared the entrance to the hall, she caught a glimpse of The Iron Bull and Dorian stood together. Dorian seemed to be talking in hushed whispers, but the Iron Bull’s attention was focused solely on her. At least he wasn’t laughing this time.

She weaved through the crowds desperate to reach her normal friends.

_Ha!_ Like that would be allowed to happen.

Before she could get close enough to actually appreciate what the Iron Bull was wearing, she was quickly dragged off into the entrance hall.

“ _Stop it_!” She hissed, smacking Leliana’s hand off her as soon as they were in private space. Leliana seemed unperturbed.

“We have much to do tonight Inquisitor; you must not hide in a corner. You are in an advantageous position. Everyone would wish to have a word with you, whether their intentions are good or otherwise. You need to…”

“Yes, yes, find who’s in a stabby mood, I get it.”

Leliana’s eyes narrowed, “I implore you to take this seriously, Inquisitor.”

Ellana took a deep breath, smoothing down her dress. She couldn’t wait until the night was over with, “I know. Honestly I do. I don’t really care who pretends they’re in charge of Orlais, but I don’t believe anyone should be murdered for the right.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, and that I write chapters that are so small! I promise they look much longer on Word!

It turned out, for all their masks and fancy outfits, Orlesians were remarkably boring. The food however…

The Iron Bull staked out a spot by a large buffet table. People got extra chatty when they were eating so of course it was purely for the Inquisition’s sake that he refused to move from his post. He held a glass of some fizzy alcohol in one hand, his fingers gripping the glass as delicately as possible for his giant hands.

There was this…spicy, meaty thing skewered on little cocktail sticks that he just couldn’t get enough of. He couldn’t tell what meat it was, but hey, good food is good food. He’d be inhaling the stuff if the sticks wouldn’t get in the way. The salad remained untouched.

A group of Orlesians stood on the other side of the room, looking over and quite obviously speaking about him. With a mouth full of stuffed rolls he lifted his chin at them and winked. 

Spy work always sounded interesting from afar. When he was told he was destined for the Ben-Hassrath, he’d been thrilled to hear his purpose in life. He knew he was right for the job, and he enjoyed it. He was exceptionally skilled at reading people (well, most people) and he was grateful for his role in the Qun. He’d never realised however, just how _boring_ spy work could be. Even if he never said it out loud. It was a lot of standing around and watching, and very little actual _doing._ Usually you just pass on the information and someone else takes over.

Although he’d never forsake the Qun, it was almost a relief to have another role handed to him as part of the Inquisition. And he’d got to meet her.

But mainly it was the whole charging around Thedas with a giant axe that he liked.

It was though a mouth of mashed potatoes that he noticed the elven servants talking in hushed whispers. Something was going down. Washing the food down with his drink he began to casually wander toward them when,

“Bull!”

He wasn’t proud to say he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Uh, Boss, hey!”

The Iron Bull was dumbstruck, his mouth dry and his tongue heavy. Ellana was looking up at him, the candlelight reflected in her doe like eyes. Her cheeks were flushed with both heat and embarrassment.

“You look…dapper?” she smiled looking his outfit up and down.

The Iron Bull snorted loudly, “I must admit, I’m pretty impressive,” he casually leaned against the buffet table, the muscles in his arms and chest straining against the shirt. The table creaked under his weight.  

The Inquisitor laughed looking far more relaxed. For a moment they were silent just watching each other, before her smile seemed to disappear. Suddenly she was the Inquisitor again.

“Have you heard anything?”

The Iron Bull straightened up, “lots of gossip. Could tell you who’s sleeping with who if that would help?”

“Anyone sleeping with the Empress?”

“Probably, but don’t know who yet. I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Hey, wanna try these uh, spicy things?” he held out a cocktail stick to her.

Ellana grimaced, but took the stick, “thanks,”

She began to walk away when the Iron Bull, reached out for her arm. Ellana turned back to him expectantly, but suddenly he had no idea what to say. He just didn’t want her to go.

_Tell her she look’s good. Tell her that her tits look FANTASTIC in that dress…No, don’t say that out loud, do not say that out loud. Woman don’t like you mentioning their tits, not until you have pet names for them. Stop thinking about her tits! Tell her she looks pretty. Pretty? Ugh, that sounds pathetic…_

“You look good,” he choked. _Good? Good! Those spicy stick things are good! Now if he could have a bite of her…_

He felt like slapping himself. Why was he acting such a fool? Why couldn’t he just flirt with her like anyone else? _Cause she’s not just a conquest. You lurrrve her._

Okay, when did his conscience begin to sound like Dorian?

“Really?” she stammered, breaking him out of his stupor. He’d been so busy kicking himself he’d hardly noticed her reaction. The blush on her cheeks had spread to the top of her ears.

“Uh, yeah,” he grinned.

“Do you want to know a secret?” she whispered.

“Sure?”

She stood up on her tiptoes, gesturing for him to lean down,

Her breath was hot in his ear…

“ _I honestly have such a wedgie right now.”_

 

 

The Iron Bull watched as she walked away, a cheeky smile on her face. He stared after her in disbelief, his eyes wandering down to her ass. Well if she had a wedgie you wouldn’t know it. He chuckled to himself, a guilty smile growing from ear to ear. She never did what he expected.

There was a gnawing feeling in his chest, so much so that he had to press his fist against the ache just to breathe normally.

_Fuck. He was a lovestruck idiot._

“What do you think you are doing?”

**_Fuck._ **

“Ma’am?” Iron Bull turned to Vivienne with what he hoped was a respectful look on his face. Should he bow? No he probably shouldn’t bow.

“I have no idea why she thought it a good idea to invite the Qunari, but I understand you have your uses. We are at war tonight. She does not need to be seen around you.”

The fluttering in the Iron Bull’s chest turned cold.

Vivienne sighed, “I sympathize. Believe it or not I do. But this is not the time and place. Surely even you must understand?”

“Yes. I understand.”

 Vivienne turned on her sharp heels and stalked back out of the room.

He couldn’t wait till he had his axe back in his hand. For the first time in a long time, he missed his home. This is why the Qun discouraged love. It changed who you were. A Ben-Hassrath was not to be distracted.

Even by her.


End file.
